


kind hands

by quackities



Series: there's humanity where there is enigmas [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Implied Family Dynamics, Internal Conflict, Memory Loss, No Beta [We Die Like Tommy Did To Lightning], Questioning One's Own Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28623411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quackities/pseuds/quackities
Summary: Another day of harmless dilemmas granted to him, and another day of peace for the demon.
Relationships: Ranboo & Clay | Dream
Series: there's humanity where there is enigmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097462
Comments: 4
Kudos: 116





	kind hands

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [he's mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353807) by [phvonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phvonix/pseuds/phvonix). 



> Not going to lie, the formatting is a tad bit messy but I do hope it's comprehensible enough to understand the premise of it, as well, this series is inspired by the lovely faery on [twitter](https://twitter.com/phvonix?s=20)! who prompted the ranboo&dream family dynamic headcanon! please do also check out their fic :)

Ranboo didn’t have parents, or at least that's what he believes from what he could remember. He had been raised collectively by the village. They regarded him in an odd manner, tentative and wary but nurturing nonetheless. It was a weird ordeal, but he never really questioned it. 

He had asked them once how he came to be, and they'd all told him the same story—he'd been birthed from lava. He never actually believed the story, but he entertained the idea for the sake of the villagers. He could tell that none of them seemed to really know _how_ he ended up in the village, or how everyone ended up unanimously agreeing on raising him. 

Though, as far as his memory went, he did remember a presence. He couldn't pinpoint anything about it, other than it was always there in his fondest moments. It was kind and comforting, and maybe once or twice does he remember it making him upset, but it was just _there_ nonetheless. 

Sometimes his mind would supply the image of hands with the presence. Hands that never once seemed to twitch in malice, always genuine and nurturing and _loving_ , the way a parent's hands were. 

_(He hears the muffled sounds of giggling. it's loud, boisterous and high pitched, and they fill the space graciously, leaving no room for any other noise._

_He feels the swelling of excitement that bubbles within him, the short bursts of anticipation that follow not long after. It's a brutal back and forth, sharp erupts of nerves and the overwhelming joy, but it never shifts from the two._

_Though, he sees nothing. It's a constant pattern, the lack of distinctive features and figures, everything is blurred and nothing ever focuses. All of it moves much too fast for him to catch anything._

_He feels the presence next to him, though, and notes the consistency of it the further the memory lasts. It's looming, but not eerily so. There's a warmth that comes along with it, and he notes the lack of concern he feels about it._

_He feels the twinge of magic being activated within him, and feels his excitement grow. He's not sure what's going on, but from there everything becomes louder._

_He hears a shrill squeal, and the giggles that come after. He's not the only one laughing though, there's another laugh. It's a low chuckle, a quiet hum in contrast to his own._

_He feels the presence shift, and then there's a hand ruffling his hair. It's comforting, and he feels a warmth spread inside of him. He's proud of himself, and he gets the feeling that the presence is too.)_

It occurred to him later on the possibility that it could've been one of his parents. It would explain the consistency, and the numerous moments he'd had that made no sense if it were just him on his own. From the scarce recollection of learning how to fight, to the vivid feeling of being taught how to wield magic. Other than that, there was little to be said about the presence.

He wishes he knew what it was, _who_ it was. 

The memories came through in scrambled, chopped bits. Never enough to fully give him anything substantial, but always just enough to remind him of what he felt through the whole thing. In every memory, never once were the hands aggressive or harsh, always gentle and firm.

From the glimpses he'd catch, he noted the calloused fingers and small scars that decorated them, at times they adorned fingerless gloves. He couldn't help but feel a pang of recognition at them., but nothing fruitful ever came from it.

It frustrated him to know that it could've been a parent of his, that he had forgotten someone so important to him. How could he possibly forget his own family?

_(He feels his mouth moving, the growing feeling of anxiety in him. It's a stiff setting, unfamiliar and unwelcoming, nothing like before._

'What's wrong?' _He hears himself ask, hears the waver in his voice. He feels as his throat closes up, his nerves getting the best of him._

 _The presence is there, it's overshadowing. It no longer carries the same comforting air it had before. Something feels wrong, something_ is _wrong. The presence was kind, always so, so kind—so why did it feel so intimidating?_

_There's a distortion of noise, as if the presence were talking. He can't make out any words out of the noise, much of it just sounding like static._

_He feels conflict within himself. There's hesitation, an overwhelming worry, and then there’s a bubbling fear. He feels himself walk backwards, trying to get away from the presence. The longer he’s around it, the more unrecognizable it felt._

_It's detached, cold, and so unfamiliar. This isn't the same presence, it can't be._

_But it is._

_He hears the faint footsteps of the presence approaching him before he sees a glimpse of hands. They reach for his head, and they hold it with a gentleness he’d grown used to. He feels himself ease with the familiarity._

_The noise resumes, and he assumes the presence is speaking. He can’t understand anything, but he feels the distress that comes off of it. He feels grief, hesitation, and anguish. It’s suffocating._

_The presence is suffering, it’s subtle and hidden, but he feels it. He wants to help, he can sense how it overwhelmed the presence, how it grew the longer it was here._

_He feels the hands ruffle his hair, and then they grip. He winces at the sudden pressure, but he doesn’t move. He feels a shift from the presence and then there’s a feather light touch on his forehead._

_He’s not sure if the noise ever stopped, but he hears it once again. He distinguishes a pained_ 'im sorry' _and_ 'this is for your safety' _before he feels a buzz in his head._

_Then it turns dark.)_

The more he thought about it, the more murky his theory got. If it was his parent, why did none of the villagers know of them? Why had no one told him of them? _Why was there no trace of them?_

There was no possible way that all of the villagers had simply forgotten about his parent, especially one that seemed to be very much present for key milestones of his. None of it aligned well, none of it making much sense.

He felt the onslaught of a headache the more he questioned it, the farther he went down the rabbit hole. It was too confusing, too many missing variables that he didn't have the capabilities of finding. 

He decides that it was simply an imaginary friend that he’d made up and remembers too vividly. It makes more sense than if it were one of his parents, and he decides to leave it at that.

_(Little does he know how true his theory was, how close he'd come to figuring it out._  
_Of the demon that feared that he'd one day remember, that did his best to keep him clueless and out of harm._  
_Another day of harmless dilemmas granted to him, and another day of peace for the demon.)_

**Author's Note:**

> I want to start with the fact that this is an Alternate Universe and Canon Divergence, so while I will follow the timeline in canon it is gonna be altered to fit my story and such. As well, Dream is going to be a bit out of character as opposed to how he is in canon, I will try to write him as similar to canon but again, to fit the story he is gonna be a lot kinder and humane towards Ranboo. 
> 
> I am super pumped to start this series and I hope this messy introduction of a ficlet doesn't scare you away, I can't concretely say how often new works will be posted but i'll say the timeframe would be bi weekly. Again, kudos and comments are appreciated, and so is feedback <3 If you wanna chat about my works all my socials are in my profile!


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